


Against Hope

by coffeehigh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-16 21:37:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeehigh/pseuds/coffeehigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one can really tell when love begins, least of all the self contained R. J. Lupin who was caught by surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Slow Progression

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is based on the books and characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers. No money is being made from this. No infringement on copyright is intended.

_Loving someone is like hoping against hope. It is as if the seemingly impossible, the greatest happiness is merely a hairsbreadth away. Yet, it remains the hardest distance to cross._

          If it wasn't her, it should be disturbing how easy things fell into place. It came quietly and subtly and took him by surprise and left him breathless. It was- Remus analogized- like realizing how good a book was only when you were called for dinner and you loathed putting it down. The thought only came consciously the moment you were forced to let go.

          There was no way of telling when it really began, as if things like these have distinct beginnings. He remembered certain things that happened perhaps a lifetime past, but in reality was merely over a year ago.

          There were those times when he would go out of his way to walk her home, whenever she would be too tired to Apparate without splinching herself. They would pace themselves slowly, even if they both have long strides and would always take the long way around the park.

          He could not tell when he began draping his coat over her, regardless of the temperature or when she started bringing the bar of Honeydukes Best Chocolate to share. Somehow, she always managed to have him eat most of it, while taking only a bite or two for herself.

          There were those conversations they had during joint stakeout sessions. She would ask him about his travels, his family and the Marauders, particularly Sirius. At the beginning, he had found it presumptuous and intruding and had told her so, in polite terms, of course.

          She had apologized and had distanced herself, settling for questions related to Order business and the first war. After awhile, he had missed her presumptuous questions and had offered the information freely. It amazed him how big her heart was when she did not hold it against him. Instead she shared with him her real appearance, her thoughts on being raised half a Black and half a muggle and- even if she enjoys it- how scared she gets sometimes, living the life of an Auror.

          There were nights, particularly before the full moon, when the recollection of being aware of the feel of her body for the first time haunts his mind. It was an innocent enough event. She had tripped on the troll leg umbrella stand and he had caught her, held her close for a moment, patting her head like one would a child before letting go.

          But when night came and dreams of her all soft and solid and real found their way to his mind, he felt ashamed at himself, even if such thoughts were unconscious and unbidden and he has no control over them.

          It was while doing something as commonplace as sitting across from her, while sipping tea and listening to her describe some daring escapade to catch some Death Eater that realization struck. The irrational urge to argue with her over her risky behavior made him analyze the why's behind it and he finally acknowledged to himself what he felt for her.

         Then during one of their many walks around the park near her place (when the moon was new, he was certain), his hand had slipped comfortably into hers. It was the same as before, with his coat draped over her shoulders, clashing horribly with her violently pink hair and the wrapper of the chocolate bar that he had just finished palmed in his other hand. Except this time she turned to him with a hopeful look in her eyes and a shy smile on her lips.

          "What are we doing, Remus?"

          Her palm was soft and warm and unconsciously, he was running his thumb back and forth over the back of her hand.

          He turned his attention to something else, anything but her closeness, the heat radiating off her and the faint scent of her shampoo that still lingered at the end of the day that someone with a normal sense of smell would not be able to detect.

_Lilacs._

          He focused on the flickering street lamp a few paces ahead of them, the thickening fog, the soft barking of a dog far, far away bringing back recollections best left forgotten. It wasn't a safe neighborhood and not because a werewolf was currently in the area.

          "I would have thought it was obvious." He finally answered, opting to ignore the very obvious, unsaid question. "I am walking you home."

          "You've been walking me home for four months now."

          He raised one shoulder slightly in an elegant shrug. "It's dangerous for a woman to walk alone at night."

          She arched an eyebrow. "I am an Auror. A good one, at that."

          "I do not doubt that."

          "Then what are we doing?" She raised their clasped hands.

          "We are two friends-" he emphasized the word by extricating his hand- "enjoying each others' company."

          Her small smile became strained.

          "I see." Her voice broke.

          Then she leaned towards him. Or perhaps he crushed her against him. Or perhaps they both gravitated towards each other- it was really difficult to tell. Only the end result was he had his arms around her, he had his face buried in her hair that had turned long and brown while she had her face in the crook of his neck and her hands fisted around the cloth of his jumper.

          Closing her face towards his, she whispered, "give me a good reason why we shouldn't do this."

          He had many, but at that moment, he couldn't say any of them. He didn't want to say any of them.

          Hours later, in his cold, dingy flat, while he had a memory to warm him and remind him of his humanity, it troubled him that he couldn't even blame his actions on the moon.


	2. Leaving Time

How many loved your moments of glad grace  
And loved your beauty with love false or true  
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you  
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;  
- **William Buttler Yeats**

          The bed was covered in moonlight and crumpled sheets and if one squinted long enough, the cold steel bars and metal wheels of its gurney-like appearance vanished for a moment and one could almost imagine it to be a romantic scene.

          On the other hand, the corner was dark and smelled faintly of antiseptic potions that permeated the entire of St. Mungo's. But more importantly, it was safe. Safe from what, Remus did not want to determine, only that he could not bring himself to move closer to the bed that occupied the center of the room.

          So he sat in the darkness and watched her restless slumber.

          Her hair, long and an uncontroversial brown for a change, was spread across her pillow and covered half of her face. The moon streamed through the slats of the windows, tracing bars across her face and making her look small and pale and very, very young.

_Too young. Too young for him._ Too young to be dragged into a war. If born any other time, she should be worrying about enjoying her youth and earning enough money to enjoy her youth.

          Being with him was hardly the way to enjoy her youth.

          He kept looking at her from his corner in the dark. The healer had already informed him that she was going to be fine, there wasn't any indication of complications developing, and that she was simply being confined because she needed rest and some time to heal her bones and wounds.

          Still, he felt strongly the urge to remain. But he could not. Even if the worst was over, and he had made sure that the children and the other Order members were safe, there were other things to do and see to. He still needed to send out communications to the rest of the Order to update them. He needed to talk to Dumbledore about the risks of using Grimmauld Place as headquarters for the Order. He needed to make sure that Harry was dealing with the loss of-.

          He inhaled sharply.

          Sirius. Sirius was- gone. He could not even bring himself to say it, not even in his head. How could he help Harry?

          He hunched forward, his elbows settled on his knees and his hands drifted to his face. He needed a drink, maybe a cigarette, maybe a new mission. He closed his eyes against the heavy hopeless but the tears would not come. He would mourn properly, some other time, for the friend that was given back then taken away so quickly that it seemed like a brief dream. The lack of a body reinforced the illusion and made coping harder. It was as if Sirius did not exist and his death had been in vain.

          She stirred slightly. Remus held his breath and pressed himself deeper into the corner. If he kept quiet long enough, she might go back to sleep. And he might, he just might be able to explain this visit on the excuse that somebody from the Order needed to inform Tonks, who was both Order member and relative, about what happened to Sirius.

          After the death, his first instinct was to lay low for awhile. The fact that she was the only person whose company he willingly sought did not mean anything, of course.

_Of course,_ Remus repeated that to himself. He was only doing his duty.

          "Remus?" Her eyes shifted and blinked a few times until he felt her gaze settle on him.

          "Wotcher." She said sleepily, her eyelids already descending over her eyes. "You came."

          With her eyes closed, Tonks slid her hand slowly over the covers towards him. Then she opened her hand slightly, whether in supplication or because she was tired, Remus didn't know, but it was all that he could bear. So he moved his chair closer and covered her hand with his own.

          "I can't believe you didn't bring any chocolate."

          He gave a small smile and even if she kept her eyes closed, Tonks had a smile of her own. A few minutes passed in silence, and he thought she had drifted off, but when she spoke, her voice was strong and clear.

          "How is everybody?"

          "The children are safe." Remus answered, his voice hoarser than usual, from hours of disuse and in anticipation of the conversation.

          "Hmmm." Tonks shifted closer but kept her eyes closed, as if holding a conversation and keeping them open tired her too much. "And the others."

          "Nymphadora, someone-"

          Then he couldn't speak anymore. He watched their hands instead. Her fingers were curled lightly around his, but his hands were white around the knuckles for gripping too tightly.

          His hair was being pushed from his face before he realized that she was already half sitting.

          "Who?"

          "Sirius."

          Her hand tightened around his.

          The world blurred around Remus and the tears that refused to fall finally did. He felt her hands on his face, running through his hair, rubbing his back and nape. He heard her murmured _shh_ although they were punctuated with a few hiccups and sobs. He thought she asked him when was the last time he slept and he thought he answered that he hasn't yet, although he wasn't really sure they had the conversation at all.

          It was a jumble of sensations, feelings, thoughts and words and deeply tired, Remus allowed her to stroke his hair until he fell asleep.

          Remus woke some time later and realized that he had fallen asleep on the chair with his head on the hospital bed. His face was sticky and his mouth sour from dried up tears. As he moved from his slouched position over the bed, he was reminded quite unpleasantly of his age and his affliction. He gingerly straightened his back and stretched the crick out of his neck then looked at Tonks.

          They were still holding hands.

          His mind went back to _that night,_ less than a week ago. It had felt right, all the way back to Tonks' flat, felt right while kissing her again against the door jamb, felt right when he gave her the last chaste but lingering good night kiss. Only afterwards, while he undressed in the dark and he saw his scars turn stark white under filtering streetlight, it seemed wrong.

          Lycanthropy was a disease he wouldn't wish on anyone, least of all somebody as- dare he say it- special as her. No matter how much he checks on the chains or the cages, no matter how many doses of Wolfsbane he takes, he will never be safe enough.

          And every month, each time he looses his mind to the wolf, she wouldn't be safe either.

          Even if nothing happened, he could not bear that she would have to sit up all night and wait while he growled and howled and scratched somewhere in a reinforced basement, or in St. Mungo's or in the Shrieking Shack. Wherever he may be while he lost himself to the pull of the moon, she would still be sitting up, waiting and wondering if the person going home to her the next day would still have his humanity intact.

_It was just a kiss, you foolish git._ He's done more with less emotional attachment.

          He lifted her hand to his lips and planted a kiss.

          "Good bye, Nymphadora."

          The next day, amidst the glorious bouquets of flowers from her parents and friends, Tonks found a lone lilac beside her pillow.


	3. Tea and a Lack of Sympathy

_A stiff apology is a second insult... The injured party does not want to be compensated because he has been wronged; he wants to be healed because he has been hurt. **\- G.K. Chesterton**_

 

          Tonks had been here earlier in the week- or so Molly informed him pointedly, not bothering with staying out of their business. It was true, he was certain, but not because of his sense of smell. Although it had always been sharp, sharper because of The Bite and usually during the days around the full moon, even scent filters out of the air after a few days.

          He knew because he had somehow grown accustomed to catching traces of her on things.

          Tonks' favorite mug (knowing that she refuses to use any of Molly's dainty teacups for good reason) was still on the draining board instead of the cupboard. He knew that Molly usually clears the small rack by the draining board at the end of the week.

          Ginny Weasley greeted him at the door wearing new Gryffindor red and yellow hair ribbons that he had seen before intertwined in the hair of a certain metamorphmagus.

          And he found traces of her hair, the strands a light brown color that he spied on her during his last jaunt to London and on that night in the outskirts of a dark forest, when they last saw each other.

          Molly instructed him to take off his coat and robes, and he weakly agreed, hanging both garments on the chair, conscientiously keeping both from leaving dirt in Molly's spotless kitchen. Only when he heard her sharp gasp did he remember why he didn't take it off at the door to begin with. It was not something he'd like to subject young Ginny Weasley to.

          A long gash started at the side of his jaw, continued down the right of his throat and disappeared under the collar of his jumper. What Molly couldn't see- but could probably guess- was that it continued down his chest and stopped halfway to his stomach.

          "Oh Remus, Dumbledore shouldn't have asked that of you." Molly said, hovering a few inches over his neck and fussing over the new scar. "At least this was cleaned right. We couldn't have you getting an infection.

          What Remus didn't share was that he did have an infection for a few days, together with a fever. He nursed himself back to health, self-medicating on old potions long past their shelf life that he had in his cupboards, remnants of the good will of others

          He was good at taking care of himself, the way he did, years ago when Voldemort was first defeated. While the Wizarding World won, he had lost everybody who cared enough to take care of him.

          Well, he didn't have the fever now. Practical Remus gave a small shrug. "It is the least I could do for the Order. It is a stroke of luck that they have a spy ready made, one with a history with Greyback. The werewolves need to be convinced to join us or if not, stopped."

          He kept his voice even, but his right hand, the one he kept on his lap, clenched convulsively.

          Molly didn't notice and merely ladled up soup. Moody and the rest of the family would be over later for lunch, but Molly liked giving him a little head start on the food. He needed it more, she would say, and he would often politely decline. But there was something healing about having some warm soup in Molly Weasley's kitchen. And he needed something healing right now, although to heal him from what, he had yet to define precisely.

          "Remus," Molly began as she poured him a mug of tea. (Remus noticed that it matched Tonks' mug.) "Tonks tells me that you just left. She said after you visited her in the hospital, you took that awful mission joining Grayback and disappeared without telling her. Why didn't you tell her?"

          Remus stared at the mug, his mind conjuring images of Tonks' hands spilling some of her tea. He put the mug down and mentally shook his head clear. Instead, he idly traced the grain of the unvarnished table, anything to keep them from clutching anything and breaking that object in the process.

          That was easy to answer. For somebody like Molly, he expected her to be more direct to the point. Perhaps Tonks didn't tell her everything.

          "According to Severus, it seemed opportune to join immediately. There was no time to tell Nymphadora or the rest of the Order for that matter what I was assigned to do. Now that she does know, I do not see the why this should still be an issue."

_That's right._ He couldn't see why Tonks and Molly were fretting over this. _It was no big deal. It was really no big deal._

          "Remus, she took offense that you didn't even tell her. You didn't even leave her a note saying that Dumbledore asked you to do this. She was worried. If you saw her, you'd understand. She's so pale and gaunt."

          "There was no time to inform her, Molly. There was no way."

          Molly tut tutted him. "So you let her find out the way the rest of the Order did. I would have thought that you, of all people, should know better how to treat a lady. And-" Molly raised her hand- "don't tell me that there is nothing between the two of you. Even Sirius- rest his soul- knew something was up."

          He mentally coached himself from gripping the mug too hard, as he was wont to do in the past without noticing it until the fragile object broke. He had learned that the hard way, when he became aware of his strength for the first time.

          Finally, he spoke. "There shouldn't be anything between us. I am a generation ahead of her. I cannot provide for her. And for Merlin's sake, I do not know how safe she will be if I had told her. You know Nymphadora, Molly. She'll barge in there with her wand out. And it isn't just Grayback. It's me. I'll never be safe enough!"

          Molly looked a little surprised at his outburst and he felt surprised as well.

          He needed to take back his control. It had been difficult for him to join the werewolves because it was about allowing himself to lose control.

          So that was how Mad-Eye had found them, a shocked Molly and an apology sputtering Remus.

          Remus and Molly slowly drifted to different parts of the house, until it was time for lunch. Then they surreptitiously took either end of the table.

          Lunch at the Weasley house was pretty much the same, filled with stories and good-natured ribbing, the latter of which was mostly directed at Bill, who was oblivious and perfectly happy to stare into his fiancee's eyes.

          Remus left early, passed by his small apartment and deposited all acquisitions that linked him to the Wizarding community, the Weasleys and the Order. The werewolves resented it when one of their kind bore any indication of trying to integrate himself into Wizarding Society.

          He placed the leftovers on the counter, and covered it with a freezing charm.

          He hid the Order plans Moody had given under the loose plank beneath his bookshelf.

          Then he checked and double checked his wards before depositing his wand in his hiding place.

          Devoid of his wand and money and unwilling to risk Apparating in front of irate werewolves, he walked the few kilometers from his apartment to Greyback's city lair. The entrance was hidden in a dark and narrow alleyway, flanked on both sides by concrete walls. The ground was wet and the air was damp and it filled Remus' nostrils with the pungent scent of human excrement and the musty smell of wet fur.

          Near the full moon, the pack would usually move to the forest, but the rest of the time, Greyback houses them in the city. Remus was certain that that didn't please Greyback a bit, but it made the location more accessible for the other Death Eaters.

          The entrance to the lair was a menacing steel door, two inches thick and painted a dull, rusty red. Remus wondered if that was meant to protect the people on which side of the door.

          There was no need to announce his presence. The guard on the other side would have smelled him the moment he entered the alleyway.

          True enough, the door swung open and a spike-haired kid, donning a leather jacket and more attitude than girth greeted him.

          "Mr. Lupin."

          The boy stepped deferentially out of his way before locking up behind Remus. Remus tried seeing him as one of the group, someone who would cold-bloodedly pursue Greyback's agenda, but all he saw was a child, barely twenty-one and eager to prove to the rest of the pack what he can do.

          "Rey."

          The younger man gave him a grin and directed him to the back of the room.

          Around them, the other werewolves were lounged on rugs or on the floor, a multitude of empty bottles around them. Another group was sharpening their fingernails that had grown to talon length. They mostly ignored Remus, which was fine with him. The only werewolf to really pay him close attention was Greyback, to see if he really had given up the Wizarding World, and Rey.

          The kid was an orphan and muggle to boot, and after he was bitten, Greyback's group seemed like the only way to belong to something. Remus' heart went out to him and had taken to looking out for him especially from the older and bulkier members of the group.

          The younger man led him to an empty pallet and sat by him before pulling out a muggle coin.

          "Learnta new tricksie." Rey said and proceeded to make the coin vanish with slight of hand. Only he didn't do it quite well, and his face turned red when the coin tumbled a few times out of his hand.

          "It only needs a little more practice." Remus reassured him and willingly served as Rey's audience. "Just don't let Greyback catch you playing with muggle coins."

          Rey shrugged, trying to look tough, but he moved to a more discreet corner, hiding his coins from prying eyes.

          It was a strange thing really, this general hatred Greyback had with the rest of the world. While he despised wizards, he looked down on muggles because they were weak. Prey.

          Remus wondered if it was the discrimination, the differences, that Greyback was really angry about. He tried to imagine how Greyback would be like if the entire world was inhabited by werewolves, a world where nobody was different. He didn't think that, given a level playing field- minus all of what made them different- Greyback would play the role of law abiding citizen well. Remus reckoned that Greyback held on to his anger, not because there was a great injustice against their kind, but rather because it gave him a reason to live.

          Because they all needed reasons, didn't they. Even he needed one. And without the war, without the need to fight against Voldemort, what did he have? Where did that leave him?

          It was a frightening thought.

          It was a thought that had haunted him plenty of times, during the interim after Voldemort's fall that fateful Halloween night and his reappearance the night of the last task of the Triwizard Tournament. Until now, he still didn't have an answer.

***

          It took the stirrings of other werewolves for Remus to notice that Greyback had entered their temporary lair. The werewolf, even in his human form, appeared close to a wolf, and strode through the throngs as if on a hunt. Remus noticed that Rey slinked silently away.

          "Lupin." Greyback stopped directly in front of him.

          "Greyback." Remus greeted calmly.

          Greyback sniffed the air around him for a moment. "Where have you been?" He snarled.

          Remus was half tempted to answer: to London. To visit the queen. But he supposed prudence was the wiser move. "Business."

          Greyback took another sniff then looked at him disdainfully. "The next time you vanish into Wizarding London to visit your little bird..."

          Remus raised an eyebrow. "Do I smell anything like her?"

          Once, he visited Diagon Alley and spent an afternoon following Tonks and deliberating whether to approach her to explain. After an hour of debating with himself, Remus decided that it was better to just leave it as it is. When he returned to the lair, Greyback was very precise with the details of his little excursion and was more precise about what he wanted to do with Tonks.

          Greyback growled but didn't concede the point. "If I smell her on you, the next time, you better make sure she's a wolf when you return, or I'll enjoy doing it for you."

          Remus kept his expression neutral and bowed deferentially, knowing that in this group, Greyback was alpha. But Greyback's words frightened him, and it wasn't the first time that Greyback made the threat.

          It was one of the reasons why he could not go back and explain things better to Tonks. Certainly she deserved better than an aging, financially insecure, lycanthrope. Yet even if they were to try any kind of relationship, he could not put her into that kind of peril. Being an Auror placed her in enough danger as it is, and he could not add to that.

          Molly's description of a gaunt, pale, worried Tonks combined with Greyback's threat stuck to his mind and gnawed at him endlessly. He didn't want to leave her that night in the hospital room. He didn't want her to find out about the mission to join Greyback in such a callous way. But it wasn't about what he wanted. It was about doing the right thing.

          Which was why he left her, alone in that hospital room, before something else gave in and it would be too difficult for the both of them to walk away.

          The day after he visited Tonks, Dumbledore had called him up to Hogwarts and had asked him to infiltrate Greyback's group. It was easy to avoid her after that. Running with a band of hunted werewolves didn't leave him with much free time to associate with anybody and his time was divided between being with the pack and looking for covert ways to send a message back to Dumbledore.

          He hadn't expected that Tonks would be one of the Aurors assigned by the Ministry to track down the renegade werewolf gang headed by Greyback and didn't anticipate that there was a possibility that she might stumble upon him while undercover.

          They had stood eye to eye, on the same side of the battle but for all appearances on the opposite side. She had kept her wand trained on him, a testimony to her Auror skills, but her eyes had asked for a simple explanation. And he denied her by turning away.

          The Order could explain it to her.

          Without saying a word, by not informing her of such an important decision, he had clearly conveyed his intention- no.

_It was better that way._ If there was anything he learned in the past, the human soul can endure an unlikely amount of suffering. It was better that she suffered now, briefly, than spend a lifetime full of regrets.

_It was better that way._

 


	4. The Lost Memory

 

Better by far that you should forget and smile  
Than you should remember and be sad.  
 **-From _Remember_ by Christina Rossetti**

          It was the night of a new moon.

          During new moon nights, lights seem to burn dimly, the loose pebbles of the cobblestones seem absent beneath his feet and scents seem muted and blended with each other. The wolf's dormant on these nights, tame and apathetic, and the acuity of senses that his alter ego proffers vanishes as well. On new moon nights, all of Remus' senses are dulled and his movements always feel sluggish to him. Yet on these nights, his mind is most alert and rational. Remus feels like he is floating, as if his senses are not picking up on everything.

          Which was why, if Rey didn't point her out, he would have missed her.

          Remus and Rey were standing guard outside a werewolf bar, one that the pack frequented to recruit new wolves. Guard duty was usually given to the wolves that displeased Greyback, and more often than not, it fell to Remus. That was fine with him. Greyback and the rest of the pack would mostly talk to the newly bitten wolves and try to convince them about how unjust the wizard policies were against werewolves, all while drinking cheap lager.

          After finding out that Remus had guard duty, Rey volunteered to be his double. Remus was relieved that Rey had the sense to tag around him than try to ingratiate himself with the rest of the pack. Wolves have been known to eat their young. Werewolves weren't much different, whether literally or figuratively.

          "Aint she wizard police girl, Mr. Lupin?" Asked Rey, pointing to some point over Remus' shoulder.

          Remus turned towards the thin, young man with the spiked hair and wearing an elderly man's coat that sagged around his shoulders. Muggle by birth and bitten in his teens, Rey is just beginning to understand that there is another world out there, aside from the one that muggles moves around in.

          Remus peered out of the darkened doorway where he is lodged and surveyed the street. He finally spotted her outside a pub a couple of blocks down, drinking with a group of rowdy patrons. By all appearances, she seemed like everybody else, a worker winding down at the local pub after hours. If it were not for the proximity to the werewolf bar, Remus would have thought that Tonks was merely out for a good time.

          Remus immediately realized two things. The first was that Tonks isn't in disguise. There is no alteration of her face, no lightening of her hair color, no shortening of her stature. She is herself, as he remembers her- incapacitated as she was in that hospital- pale-faced and brown haired. _And lovely_ , even if just to him. He pondered this for a while, generating more questions than answers, then lets the train of thought go, knowing that he would get more if he just asked her.

          The second thing that took him by surprise was that Rey remembers Tonks, despite having seen her only once before. It was during a pre-attack preparation, when Greyback made it a habit of having the pack stay close to humans a few nights before the full moon. The Aurors heard of the plan- thanks of course to Dumbledore who had been informed by Remus.

          That was also the first time he had seen her after he left her in the hospital.

_Greyback took the pack to a suburb outside of London where the stars shone bright and the waxing moon brighter still. It was a day before the full moon, and already, Remus felt the effects of not taking the Wolfsbane Potion for the first time in two years._

_"AURORS!"_

_The growl came from one of the older werewolves._

_Remus watched as the pack started running in all directions. Some headed towards the shadows in between the fences surrounding the houses but most followed a deeper instinct and turned towards the thickening of trees at the outskirts of the village._

_Remus opted for the trees, trying to get as far as possible from the houses. They weren't werewolves yet, and there was no crime committed in being out at night. But lurking around homes at this time of night could be considered suspicious regardless if you were a werewolf or not._

_He found Rey standing in the middle of a street, paralyzed with indecision, halfway between the cover of the trees and the shadows of the houses. He grabbed the boy by the scruff of the neck and pushed him forwards._

_"Run." He whispered harshly and his tone seemed to galvanize the boy into movement._

_They reached the cover of the trees without being caught. Remus instructed Rey to go around one of the sturdier trees while he stayed behind a shrub near the fringes, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was happening._

_He was correct in choosing the trees over the houses. There was hardly any movement near their area, but in the distance, he could see movements in between the houses. From that direction, he could hear angry snarls and clipped incantations. The Aurors decided to go after the werewolves that lurked near the civilians._

_Then it happened all of a sudden. A few meters from where he was hidden, there was a soft pop, followed by the appearance of a slight figure in Ministry issue robes._

_She looked different bathed in moonlight and shadows. He had always observed her in Grimmauld Place by the light of a roaring fire or during joint stakeouts under beautiful starlight or in the kitchen of the Burrow in the aseptic brightness of daylight. But never in the gloom of night with the nearly full moon hanging ominously in the sky._

_Despite that, he recognized her instantly. Her hair was the same color it had been when he visited her in the hospital, the same color when he kissed her, that night. He knew, because she had shown him once, that this was her true hair color._

_That disturbed him. She hardly wore it that way, especially not during missions. In the past, she would always return to Grimmauld Place from Auror duty with violently colored, cropped hair but never long and flowing and in its natural color._

_Was she having problems with shifting?_

_Now really wasn't the time to contemplate it._

_She looked into his eyes at wand point and for an instant, he knew she saw a stranger. Then the flicker of recognition came to her replaced by condemnation and hurt. Her lips trembled with the unsaid curse and her hand shook as she carefully lowered her wand._

_Some unknown Auror was shouting from the general direction that Tonks came from._

_"Tonks! Did you find anything?"_

_Tonks met his eyes and Remus saw the faint moistness being replaced by resolve._

_"Negative, Savage," Tonks said, her eyes never leaving Remus'. "I must have been reading all the signs wrong."_

_Remus steeled himself against the trembling of her hand, the wetness of her cheek, the anger in her voice and the accusation in her eyes. But he didn't do anything, didn't even explain. He just turned around and vanished silently into the night, like the hunter in the depths of his nature._

          Molly had chastised him on why he didn't tell Tonks about his joining the group, but he had been afraid of confronting her. Then, when Tonks found out, on her own, it was too late to even explain.

          "Mr. Lupin, ya reckon them police got some idea what we got goin here."

          Remus turned in the general direction of Rey, trusting his weakened sense of hearing rather than his sense of sight since his vision was clouded with something remarkably like regret. "No," he answered, a little more curtly than he intended to. Then seeing the need to clarify: "I'm sure that Auror is here alone, off duty. We would have recognized other Aurors if they're after us."

          His answer pacified Rey and their sighting of Tonks was not reported to Greyback.

          Later, he made his report to Dumbledore, and a few weeks on- enough time that it wouldn't be traced back to him- the Ministry closed down the bar for "Participating in Seditious Acts."

          It was a small success against overwhelming odds and even if he knows it was the right thing to do, it does little against the realities of his situation- regardless of the good that he does in this war, the injustices of his life would never be rectified in his lifetime.

*******

          During the cold nights in the company of killers, and the deadlier company of his reminiscences his mind always goes back to that memory of her and the part that gives him comfort are the tears in her eyes. At least, he knows she still felt something for him. It is selfish, but he knows that in the future, when he finally stands at the audience side of the aisle, behind a genial expression and watches her make her vows to somebody deserving, he would bring back that memory. He would take comfort in the thought, that for a moment she had wanted that with him.


	5. Revelations

And when I answered with a lie, oh then,  
You dropped your eyes, I felt your utter pain.  
I would have died to say the truth to you.  
 **-Sara Teasdale, _In a Subway Station_ **

          Those were dangerous times. Voldemort was slowly gaining power and the Ministry was ill adapted to deal with the inhumane treatment of both wizards and muggles alike. Yet the most dangerous of all times was Christmas. The season had the knack of making happy people, despite the tragedy of the times, feel happier and give sad people more time to envy those better off and contemplate what they lack.

          So while the happy ones stayed in their homes, warming themselves before a fire with their loved ones and singing along to frighteningly suggestive ballads on the Wizarding Wireless, the sorriest of the lot went to the local pub to legally- and sometimes illegally- anesthetize themselves with bottled substances.

          The pub was almost empty and his entrance went unnoticed. One of the dimly lit corners was occupied by a warlock slumped over a table, surrounded by toppled over bottles. Another wizard was tending the bar.

          He spotted her sitting by the bar having a desultory conversation with the pub owner. He claimed the seat beside her, matched Tonks' drink and waited for her to greet him.

          She didn't.

          Heaving a sigh, he pulled out a cigarette. She used to say something about how smoking was bad for him and he would say something about how fighting in this war was equally bad, if not more so, worse for him.

_Recalling a conversation with a woman he wants but couldn't-no, shouldn't- have is equally dangerous but that's beside the point._

          It was an old conversation, something he misses now that she merely wrinkled her nose but remained silent as he lighted up.

          Tired of waiting for her to acknowledge him, he started in on the topic that had been troubling him all night. "Harry told me your Patronus changed."

          She picked up her glass, contemplated the bottom of it before deciding on a refill. "He knows?"

          Remus shook his head. "He only saw something four-legged and big and thought it was the other person who transforms into something four-legged and big."

          She still hasn't turned towards him, and Remus suppressed the urge to have her face him and shake her. Either that or kiss her until New Year.

          He was paralyzed by the direction of his thoughts, made witless by the painful tug in his chest and all he could do was watch, out of the corner of his eye, as she directed herself towards a self-destruction that he felt accountable for. She downed drink after drink with alarming speed and she gradually become clumsier than he thought possible. He signaled for the pub owner to stop giving her drinks, to which she replied with an ugly growl.

          The owner raised both hands and turned away.

          Deprived, Tonks finally spoke: "So you decided to come and ask me about it?"

          He cringed at her short, bitter laugh. He has never heard Tonks be bitter about anything; it wasn't in her nature. She was vivacious, funny and lighthearted. One of the things he loved about her was how she was able to see the good side of every situation. This was what he did to her when they were apart. Still, this was what he would do to her if they were together. There would be endless full moons, and then she would slowly loose her love of life and energy. If they end up together, she would slowly become lifeless, still and bitter at the prejudice of the wizarding world, at the injustice of her fate, and finally, she would become bitter at him.

          He believed in it firmly. He was, in no way, good for her.

          "How very... professor-like of you, Remus." She continued sarcastically.

          "Nymphadora... I, uh... Patronuses change during times of stress and emotional upheavals. Which is why I'm to see how you were doing, that and Molly said you would be spending Christmas alone."

          "It's wartime, Remus, stress and emotional upheavals abound. And I'd rather my parents to be safe and in hiding than exposed and next to me just so that I'd have a great ol' time for Christmas." Finally turning towards him, she asked: "Why are you really here?"

          Remus weighed the pros and the cons of telling her something that he hasn't even completely admitted to himself.

          "Nymphadora, it's been happening for months now and yet, you never mentioned it to me." Remus voice was soft and low, almost pleading.

          Tonks slammed the glass on the table and watched it fall off before finally facing Remus

          "Following your lead, I guess. About not mentioning things. You know," She hiccupped for a second before continuing, her volume rising. "LETTING ONE FIND OUT ON THE FIELD WHEN SHE ALMOST BLASTED HIS BRAINS OUT."

          She faced him on the barstool with her eyes red and wet, her nose runny and it was all he could do not to lean in and embrace her. Their knees bumped each other and Remus gritted his teeth against the contact.

          It was him; didn't she see it? THIS was his point exemplified. Being with him would never work because he would inevitably hurt her.

          Then instead of the sarcasm she had been using all evening, her tone changed. Her voice became small and weary.

          "It's Christmas, Remus. And even if my mind tells me to, I don't wish to be angry at you."

          "Nymphadora, I'm sorry."

          He didn't realize he had done it- until he felt her hand squeeze back reassuringly- that he had reached out for her hand. He rubbed his thumb against her palm, conveying how he felt, conveying all the things that he could not say.

          "Tonks, you see why we can't be together. I'm dangerous. I'm too poor, too old and all together not good for you. You should be with your family or at least at the Weasely's having a good Christmas. I want you to have a chance to have a normal, happy life."

          She gave a small laugh. "Too late Remus and you can blame my parents for that. Can't be normal if you're a metamorphmagus. As for happiness..."

          She reached out and placed a hand against his cheek, and Remus couldn't help the shiver that passed through him.

          "Do you know what I used to think of when I conjure my Patronus? Family vacations spent by the seaside, Quidditch Cups in Hogwarts, a pint of something cold and alcoholic after sending a Death Eater to Azkaban. Now, my thoughts are of you. You make me happy, Remus."

          Remus couldn't help his eyes from closing.

          "My thoughts are of you as well." He whispered softly before Disapparating.

          He was already in his apartment before he opened his eyes.


	6. Ecstasy, Abandon, Surrender

_There are certain words - ecstasy, abandon, surrender - we can wait all our lives, sometimes, not so much to use, as to use correctly. **-Carl Phillips**_

          Her door opened after his fifth knock and after she cast a number of charms to make sure that it was truly him on the other side. She ushered him quickly and after a furtive look behind him, closed the door and replaced the charms.

          With all of her lights out, he watched her with the dim lights from the window. The moonlight turned her skin into marble, while the incandescent glow of the street lamp deepened the hollows of her cheeks, making her look like a statue brought to life. His own Galatea.

          She wordlessly directed him towards her sofa and set to light her fireplace. The sofa was old and battered but very comfortable. Yet what he liked the most about it was that it smelled of her and as he sank into its depths, he felt safe, surrounded by something that he wanted to lose himself in.

          "Remus, what made you…. I mean don't get me wrong..." And as she turned around, her voice died in her throat.

          "You're bleeding, Remus!" She knelt in front of him and patted his scalp, his neck, down his torso, his arms and his thighs, looking for the source of the blood that stained his shirt and hands.

          He grasped both of her hands to stop her frantic searching. "It's not mine, Nymphadora."

          He felt her relax a bit, but she remained silent, waiting for him to explain.

          He let go of her hands and ran his hand through his longish hair, his hands trembling. Staring at her scruffy plaid carpet, he said, "It's foolish, really. But I had come to know him within the year. He was so young, almost like one of my students in Hogwarts. Then Greyback started... And I couldn't. I just couldn't help him. It's my fault. I should have brought a wand. I should have tried harder..."

          "Who, Remus?"

          Still avoiding her eyes, he traced the lines of her carpet with his toes. Up, down. Up, down. Then left, right. Left, right. It was easier, this mind-numbing pattern, this thoughtless repetition.

          Up, down. Up, down. Then left, right. Left, right.

          "Who, Remus?" Tonks shook him slightly.

_There was so much blood by the time that he arrived and sitting in the middle of the great red pool was Rey, clutching a soaked-through cloth against his side. Greyback loomed over him, a snarl on his mouth, revealing red tinged teeth._

_"You can't even bite them, boy." Greyback pointed to another corner and Remus saw in horror a couple of mutilated bodies. Remus could barely make out the form of a mother and a child._

_Rey opened his mouth to say something, but he was so weak and only a small croak could be heard._

_Remus couldn't take it any longer. "Greyback."_

_"Lupin." The werewolf snarled back. "This little boy has been given an order to bring back my dinner, and he refused. What should I do to him?"_

_Remus approached Rey to get a better look at his wound. On the boy's left side was a bite and long scratch marks. He mentally cursed the lack of a wand. "He'll die, Greyback. We should do something for him."_

_"He refused my order, Lupin." Greyback growled._

_Ignoring Greyback, Remus took off his jumper and used it to staunch the bleeding._

_Suddenly, Remus felt himself pushed backwards and watched as Greyback stepped down on the boy's stomach._

_Remus rammed straight into Greyback, throwing him off the boy._

_The rest of the pack had circled around the fray, and was ordered by Greyback to restrain Remus. It took three werewolves to hold him back._

_"I've always suspected your loyalty, Lupin." Then, turning back to Rey, he said: "You are nothing, boy, and you would be wise to remember that. You are lower than filth; you shouldn't have been transformed into a wolf. Those people are prey! Prey that you should have taken, instead of letting them go."_

_Remus could see that Rey was very, very weak, but he was silently cheering him on as the boy looked defiantly at Greyback. Taking a wheezing breath, the boy raised his hands, gave Greyback the finger; then he closed his eyes. Remus knew, even before Greyback snapped Rey's neck, that he was gone._

_After signaling to the werewolves holding Remus to let him go, Greyback faced him and snarled. "You're lucky I sired you, that you've been a wolf for so long. Go Lupin. But the next time I see you, I' vow, I'll tear you apart."_

          He didn't realize he was talking, didn't realize that in the telling he had gravitated towards her, didn't realize that he had transferred blood and tears on her.

          "He was just a child, hardly an adult. He knew nothing about this war; he shouldn't have been included in this. He seemed so lost. A lamb." He laughed bitterly at that. "A little werewolf, lamb." He laughed harder, so hard that his lungs felt like they were going to burst.

          He was angry, so angry. It was an emotion that he had forgotten, long ago having resigned himself to the inequalities of his life. He was angry at himself, at Greyback, at the universe, at fate. He laughed harder still, until the laughter turned to sobs and his words were lost in the tears.

          "Come now, Remus." Tonks rose from her position by the foot of the sofa and led him from her minuscule living room, down the short corridor and into the room at the end.

          Like the rest of the apartment, the room was in darkness, lit only by the streaming moonlight and streetlight from the window. She directed him to sit at the foot of her unmade bed- where she must have been sleeping fitfully judging from the state of the covers- before she disappeared into the door at the one end of the room.

          When Tonks returned, he saw that she fumbled with the implements needed for grooming- a towel, a razor, a pair of scissors, a bar of soap, a small washbasin filled with water and a face towel.

          She placed the things on her dresser then perched herself on top of it to make up for their great difference in height and motioned for him to move closer.

          He moved hesitantly, feeling self-conscious and stopped cautiously a feet in front of her. She reached out and pulled him closer until he bumped her knees. Then she moved her legs apart and pulled him closer still.

          Remus took a deep breath.

_This was dangerous._

          He watched in a daze as her hands moved towards the buttons of his shirt, working them through the holes, the skin of his torso tingling slightly where the pads of her fingers grazed it. He noted that her hands were shaking and realized that his hands, which were dangling at his sides, were clenched tightly.

          "Nymphadora."

          "Shh…. I'm just going to get you cleaned. Let me do this for you."

          She  slipped the shirt off his shoulders, letting it pool on the floor by his feet. Then dipping the towel into the washbasin, she started rubbing the blood off him. She started with his face, then methodologically progressed from there, cleaning his neck, his arms, his torso.

          "You should stop." Remus was surprised at how choked his voice sounded.

          Tonks let out a small laugh, which he felt through his body. "Relax, Remus. I won't take advantage of you."

          But he wasn't afraid of her taking advantage.

          "There," Tonks said cheekily, "good as new."

          Remus hardly felt new. In fact, now, more than ever, he felt a weariness that extended beyond his body.

          Tonks moved her hands into his hair, which he had allowed to grow to lend to the appearance of the wild werewolf. He saw the glint of the scissors in time and he grabbed her wrist. He saw her eyes widen slightly, and once again overestimating his strength, he consciously told himself to loosen his grip.

          "No, not the hair." He explained harshly. "The beard will grow back quickly, but my hair will not. They won't approve of anything civilizing. And I have to go back, try to convince the others."

          "Okay." Her voice came out as a whisper and his eyes were drawn to her throat as she swallowed convulsively.

          She replaced the scissors beside her and reached for the soap instead. She lathered up. Softly, she ran her hands over his roughened cheeks and chin, concentrating on putting enough soap for shaving. Concentrating, he realized, on not meeting his eyes. And he was glad that he was spared seeing something that he did not have the heart to face.

          Once she was done and had wiped off the excess soap, she let her hands linger against his cheeks. "We need to check if it's a close shave." Then she leant into him and rubbed her cheek against his. "There," she whispered, her breath ruffling the hair near his ear. "I think that's close enough."

          He leaned further against her and pressed his palms heavily against the mirror behind her back, feeling, just feeling the weight of her body against his- cheek to cheek, her breast against his chest, and lower still. He let desires get the better of him for a moment, before he pulled away.

          "Nymphadora. You aren't safe."

          "The moon is weeks from full."

          "Don't ever mistake that. The wolf is always within me."

          "The wolf may be part of you, Remus, but it is not you. It is not the biggest part of you. It is only a fact about you, like your height, like the color of your eyes or how you like your tea."

          "It doesn't matter. I may shave, dress in clothes, may trim my hair, everything civilizing. But I will always be a werewolf, which means I will always be unsafe."

          "Then I won't ever be afraid." Her words came as a whispered breath against his lips.

          It would be so easy for him to lean in, to close the distance of merely a hairsbreadth to be able to meet her lips. Remus knew there was more than distance separating them. His resistance made her lips a mile away.

          He felt that he was being unfair to her and he turned away. He heard the soft thud of her feet hitting the ground. The softly spoken curse word, the small ouch, the whispered, _stupid toe_ , made his chest constrict at the familiarity of it.

          "Remus. Remus, turn around and talk to me."

          Her hands settled on his shoulder and he felt her rest her head on his back, but he refused to budge.

          Sighing, she whispered against the skin between his shoulder blades, "you are not the wolf and just because you turn into one doesn't mean that I will not love you anymore. If it had been any other fault, like bad teeth or an annoying habit, I would still love you, and you wouldn't feel so bad loving me back. For Merlin's sake, I won't stop loving you once a month for something that's a sickness, that you don't have any control over!"

          "This is just feelings, the heat of the moment. It will pass Nymphadora."

          "This is as much a choice as feelings. I feel this, Remus but I also choose this."

          An uncontrollable shiver passed through his body at her words. He was so lost in himself, in his pain, that the only feeling he knew were slashes and anger, hunger and wanting. He had forgotten how to feel anything beautiful until he felt her breath on his lips and heard her words and he was reminded what it was like to feel gentleness again.

          Then he was facing her and his lips were meeting hers in earnest. Their hands were moving over each other, shaking because of the newness of the territory and with need.

 _This wasn't right_ , his mind was repeating, over and over

          He could not have her suffer like this, by giving her false hope when rightfully, she knows that they should not, could not, be together. He would not allow it, because it was being unfair to her. His fear haunted him all the way to the bed and with each graze of his hand on her skin.

          Yet she looked lovely in the dim light, her heart shape face looking very forlorn and very young. And although he could say no to his heart a hundred times because it was the right thing to do, he could not say no to her heart.

          To make it easier for her, he would learn to say good bye, for good. "Tomorrow," he whispered as he moved on top of her, moved within her.

          "Tomorrow," he repeated to himself as she came and he came. He pressed a kiss on her forehead. _Tomorrow._

          Today, for the both of them, he would hope.

          The next day, Tonks found a lone lilac beside her on the bed that had long gone cold.


	7. Falling into Place

_"This is where I have always been coming to. Since my time began. And when I go away from here, this will be the midpoint, to which everything ran, before, and from which everything will run. But now, my love, we are here, we are now, and those other times are running elsewhere."_ **\- A. S. Byatt, _Possession_**

          If beginnings were hard to pinpoint, endings were easy. His life ended many times in the past- a bite at an age when children should worry false boogeymen under their beds and not real ones outside their window, Halloween night when a family's death ushered the happiness of others who did not know them, and a valiant stand and the graceful fall of a body beyond a veil. The moments were very distinct and precise.

          And now Dumbledore's last stand.

          The afternoon of the first full moon after the Death, (as they were wont to think of It capitalized), Remus went to Hogsmede and trekked his way up to the Shrieking Shack. He went around the perimeter, inspecting the holding spells, repairing those that had been broken and putting up new ones.

          The inside of the Shrieking Shack carried all of his childhood misadventures and injuries. An old blood stain here and a few scratches there marked where he had first spent many lonely nights alone, then later in the company of his boyhood friends. He tapped his foot on the other entrance of the house, the one that lead to the Whomping Willow and Hogwarts, again testing the integrity and reapplying the spells.

          His movements dislodged the dust motes that covered the floor and walls, silent witnesses to some of his happiest and loneliest moments. He watched for a moment the strange prisms, as they swirled in the beams of light coming from the window, falling slowly to settle once more and witness his struggle and hide the stains and scratches, like fresh snow. This house: a perverted snow globe.

          He chose his corner to settle in, one that would have a good view of the moon. Then he waited. His eyes stung as his thoughts wandered inevitably to the door, the tree and the castle, the silent conspiracy and the formidable man that had made his life possible. He thought of the overwhelming understanding and compassion of this man as his form and mind slowly turned wolfish and his human anguish was gradually replaced by the howling.

***

          "Wotcher, Remus." Her voice drifted through the still air to reach him. He navigated through the rooms by wand light until he found her, sitting cross-legged in front of the Tapestry, looking at him over her shoulder, while idly tracing the scorched circle where Sirius' name had once been.

          Over the days past the fall of Hogwarts, he had found himself returning to 12 Grimmauld Place, sitting in the dark, sometimes staring at the Tapestry as she was doing now and wondering if Sirius got the better deal.

          He missed Padfoot terribly.

          The house itself seems to have gone into mourning, even now, a year after. Although the ability to do so remains, the paintings have gone still like ice as if their master's death had sapped the energy of the house, and they, merely reflections of life mimicked the one that had gone. In the darkness behind the curtain, only an occasional hacking sob comes from the portrait of Mrs. Black.

          It is one of the sad fates of portraits, that they are doomed to outlive their successors, even hated children. Until slowly, one by one each generation falls off, and all that is left of this barren tree is a picture with an idea of its aloneness.

          He sat down beside her and scanned the Tapestry, his gaze flitting briefly over the burn mark beside Narcissa's name before settling on her finger, which was worrying what had once been Sirius' name.

          "I miss Sirius, Dumbledore, all of them, Remus," Tonks said sighing loudly. "And I wish there was something I can do. But there isn't."

          Remus knew how she felt. Despite how much they were needed or loved, the dead were in a land that wishes cannot reach and grief does nothing but offer small solace to those left behind.

          Although it had been only a couple of weeks since he last saw her in the hospital wing, he was surprised by how much she had changed. Her cheeks were sunken, the skin around her eyes was dark and there were creases around her mouth that hadn't been there before.

          "Remus," she began, moving her hands from the Tapestry to her lap, "we can't skirt around the issue anymore."

          He moved slightly, turning towards her. "Nymphadora, I won't change my mind. I'm sorry." He meant it, but the words hung heavily in the air, sounding trite and insincere.

          She raised her face and Remus saw that her eyes were bright, but there where no tears. He admired her then for bravely admitting her feelings in front of everybody despite the chance of rejection. He admired her now for stating openly what even he didn't want to confront.

          Then she nodded.

          "Okay. If you insist that we shouldn't be together, then maybe we shouldn't." Her eyes focused on a spot somewhere over his shoulder. "But I want to tell you this: I'm tired of lilacs, Remus. Do you think I appreciate waking up in a cold bed with a flower next to me instead of you. You've done that twice. I understand the first time, but the second time was difficult for me."

          She held herself still and despite the brightness of her eyes, her face remained resolute. Remus could see that she was fighting the tears. He fought his own tears, as well.

          "Don't you see that this is the right thing to do?"

          "So you'll just push me away!" Tonks shouted. "Don't you think I get tired of trying after being pushed away? If this is what you want, a lonely and miserable life, I'll respect your decision. Just give me a good reason, Remus. Just one good reason. Tell me you don't feel this, and I'll go. I'll go."

          But he already gave her his reasons, reasons that she thought weren't justified. And there was nothing left for him to say. They were left with this: both of them standing in two corners on opposite sides of a line that neither of them wanted to cross. One of them has to give way because they were at a stalemate.

          "I'm tired of fighting for us, Remus. Especially if the person I'm fighting for does not want us. It's about time that  _you_  fought for us."

          "I'm tired, too." He continued to insist on what he believed, even if he loved her.

          "Then make it easier for the both of us. Tell me to stay with you."

          "I can't."

          She gave him one last lingering look and a melancholic smile touched her mouth. She gave an understanding nod, before turning around.

          He watched her leave.

          Wasn't this what he had been wanting all along. Hadn't he wanted her to come to her senses, to finally leave him and pursue the life that she deserved. So how come he felt as if, after moving towards this for such a long time, upon finally arriving at his destination, that it wasn't at all what he wanted. How come he felt empty?

          Her words last Christmas came back to him.  _You make me happy, Remus._  In Tonk's arms, he felt whole. She makes him happy.

          For him, loving her is like hoping against hope.

_But did it matter? Isn't that what a relationship is about? About how everything outside of love, trust and respect is arbitrary._

          The pieces of his life finally fell into place.

          The emptiness of Grimmauld Place stretched long and endless in front of him. Yet, it was different somehow. Brighter. Maybe his eyes had grown accustomed to the lack of light. But Remus suspected another reason.

          He heard the front door open and ran towards it at an incredible speed.

          He plans on telling her to stay.

**_FIN_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.  
> Originally posted at ff.net years ago. I've been gradually transferring my works here.


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